


Revenge

by ms_negi



Category: Soccer - Fandom, futbol - Fandom
Genre: Dominating, Domination, M/M, PWP, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 02:32:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2411750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms_negi/pseuds/ms_negi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The two best futbol players in the world get into a fight. Who will come out on top?</p><p>(This might have been proofread lazily-- I'm half tired. x_x )<br/>----<br/>UPDATE: I will update my Cris/Modric fanfic.. Just aint in the mood to write it.</p><p>Besides that.. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The two best futbol players in the world get into a fight. Who will come out on top?

10/4/2014

 

Paris Saint-Germain vs Real Madrid. A scheduled friendly match. Obviously not in each other's leagues, the two teams, coming into the game, never had experience in facing the opposition. They could only hope for the best and play to their 100% skill.

Each team had eleven skilled players lined up for this game. However, Cristiano Ronaldo and Zlatan Ibrahimovic were what people were talking about. Every fan watching this game had their eyes on them. The two most skilled players in the world were going to face each other in this game. Fans took their bets, wondering who will carry the win. 

Halfway through the game, though, Zlatan and Ronaldo got into a conflict. It had looked like Zlatan, with his short wick of temper, purposely tripped the Portugese from behind to get the ball. The fans were ecstatic. This is what they were waiting for. A tussle between the two kings of futbol. 

As the crowd around the pitch yelled for either Zlatan or Ronaldo, some players from each team got into the refs face, arguing for the end result of this fight. Some were debating Zlatan should get a yellow card for the cheap attack, and also begged for Ronaldo to get a PK. Some on PSG were saying he was only trying to get the ball. The main ref backed up away from them. He wasn't going to hear it. 

As the group argued over each other, Ibrahimovic and Ronaldo stood back, not wanting to get into this fight-- even if both of them were secretly pissed off. The two slapped hands, telling each other they were fine, but, deep down, that wasn't the case. 

Obviously, Zlatan had no patience and wanted to continue the game. He could care less about Ronaldo's wellbeing. If the Portguese was to be pull off on a stretcher, he would just shrug it off. 

Ronaldo, on the other hand, was pissed off, Zlatan cut his ankle like that. Using that cheap attack. He wanted the Swede to get punished for it.

In the end, Zlatan received a yellow card-- but Ronaldo didn't get a penalty kick. They continued the game nonetheless. 

After 94 minutes, the final whistle blew. PSG 1 – Real Madrid 2. Real Madrid and their fans cheered. PSG, on the other hand, wasn't too happy. Though, having to be a good sportsman, they congratulated Real on the win and thanked PSG's fans for supporting them. 

Walking off the pitch, the Swede was frustrated. That damn Casillas blocked his shots one after another. And, to add to that, Cristiano was able to gain one goal out of the two. Zlatan wished he scored as many goals as Real Madrid received today. The game was trash. 

Zlatan stripped off his sweaty shirt as he made his way down the tunnel to his lockerroom. Though, behind him, he heard the cheering of Real Madrid-- Still being pompous as ever. It irked Zlatan. 

Quickly getting fed up, the Swede turned right around and with slight squint of the eyes, glared draggers at Cristiano Ronaldo. His teammate, Pastore, asked him what was wrong, but, when he looked in Zlatan's direction, he quickly warned him not to do anything rash. Zlatan wasn't listening.

Cristiano was casually pacing down the hallway when he was stopped by a large figure blocking his path. Seeing who it was, Ronaldo's expression turned from content to annoyed. 

“Got a problem?” He asked.

“You piss me off.” Zlatan hissed.

Sergio Ramos tried to step inbetween them, but Zlatan nor Ronaldo wouldn't budge. Taking a second, the striker of Real Madrid reassured Ramos and dismissed him. Shortly after, Zlatan and Ronaldo squared off in the empty tunnel. 

“Are you just going to continue to stare at me?-- Got an eye problem?” Cristiano pushed his buttons, obviously not afraid of the bigger striker. 

Zlatan didn't reply, he only cocked his arm back and threw a punch at Ronaldo.

Feeling the impact, Ronaldo stepped back, touching his stinging jaw. Now, Cris was mad. How dare he touch his beautiful face! He stepped back to Zlatan and spat right in his face. 

Without skipping a beat, the Swede wiped the lobe of spit from his nose and grabbed Cristiano's throat. He pushed him back against the concrete wall. He wanted to rip Cristiano to shreds, but knew he would get practically kicked out of futbol for it. He glared down at Cristiano who was gritting his teeth back at him.

Before Zlatan could do anything, Ronaldo shoved him harshly off of him and tried to throw a punch at him. Zlatan easily dodged it and pushed the striker back up against the concrete.

“Fuck off!” The Portugese croaked as Zlatan's hand gripped against his neck again. He wrapped his hand around Zlatan's wrist, trying to pry him off. 

Zlatan fought against his grip, trying his best not to be pushed off again. Maybe.. Maybe since Zlatan didn't beat Cristiano at futbol, there was another way to beat him. Getting this wicked thought, he picked Ronaldo off the wall and spun him around, his arm snaked around his shoulder to still have his hand on his neck. He leaned Cristiano back against his fit body.

“Do you mean to say 'Fuck me'?” Zlatan replied in English into Cristiano's ear. With him in his grip, Ibramovic daringly rubbed his crotch up against the Portugese's backside. 

Cris' eyes widened to the touch. He was able to shrug him off and then turned back to face Zlatan. “I'm-- I'm not playing this game!” Cristiano snapped, his face obviously turning red, “Stay away from me.” 

Ronaldo started to walk off when Zlatan grabbed his arm and shoved him into the nearest closed room. They rushed in there only to find it to be a small conference room. Zlatan didn't bother to turn on the lights as he slammed the door shut as he stepped towards Cris again. 

“I told you to stay away from me!” Cristiano growled, throwing another punch. 

Zlatan purposly let Cristiano hit him, and retorted with a punch in Cristiano's stomach. As Cris stumbled back, the Swede casually wiped off a smidgen of blood off his lip. “Damn it, Pretty Boy. Zlatan is from Rosengard-- we scrap for dominance.” He told him, pushing Ronaldo back up into the wall opposite of the door. “You dont fuck with Zlatan.” The Swede got in the Portugese's face. “Zlatan fucks you.” Like the pompous ass he is, he grinned at his statement-- as if that was the rule of law. 

Ronaldo was really getting fed up with this cocky bastard. It never crossed his mind how much pomopous Zlatan was than him. “I have better things to do.” He snapped back.

Cris turned to head out of the meeting room when Zlatan slammed his body against the wall and, once again, rubbed his junk on Cristiano. But, this time, through their shorts, they could feel the outline of each other's cocks.

Ronaldo rose his hands to push away his opponent, but Zlatan grabbed his hands and pinned them up above his head. The Swede only stared down at the Real Madrid striker as he contiued to rub against him. He smirked slightly as he felt his own member getting hard. 

The Portuguese didn't break eye contact with him. He wouldn't dare to. He needed to show Zlatan that he wasn't going to back down so easily. However, he tried to forget about himself getting aroused at the same time. He tried to think up a rebuttal, but he could only bring himself to breath heavily. God, his jaw still hurt from that punch. 

Zlatan leaned in and ghosted his lips over Ronaldo's. He scuffed when he watched Ronaldo tried tip his mouth up at Zlatan's but wasn't in reach. “Oh? Now you want Zlatan?” The Swede rhetorically asked. The game was shit, but atleast he was enjoying this. 

“If you're not going to do anything, I might as well leave.” Cristiano retorted in a shallow mood. 

“But, if you leaved,” Zlatan quickly shoved his free hand into the front of Cris' shorts, “you wouldn't ge t your prize for being such a good boy out there.” 

Zlatan continued to call Ronaldo 'boy', which pissed off Cristiano, but he couldn't feel like that if his hand were gripping his half-limp dick. He didn't reply, he only gasped at Zlatan who was trying to get his member to stand at attention.

Hearing Cristiano pant and feeling his crotch in his hand, Zlatan grinned. “What? You like when Zlatan does this to you? I barely touched you and your expression just oozes with lust.” 

Ronaldo shook his head and knitted his eyes shut. He tried not to concentrate on Zlatan obviously giving him a hand job. “You're lying.” 

“Am I? Your face is red and you cant stop panting.” Zlatan showed him a slight frown. “Is this not enjoyable enough for you...? Then, here-- Let me try this.” 

Cristiano felt Zlatan grip his erection harder and started to pump. He bit his bottom lip, trying show his emotion. Though, his hips jutting forward saying otherwise. 

Ibrahimovic grinned widely. “This better? Hm? Do you like when Zlatan handfucks you?” He tried poke fun at the Portuguese. It was amusing to him. He didn't need Ronaldo to touch him-- he wanted to get back at him for winning the game. Zlatan hated to be in second place. His only position was on top. He wanted everyone to know this-- especially this shorter striker.

“Stop...” Cristiano croaked. “/Don't/ stop...” He corrected himself as Zlatan's long fingers stroked the length of his member. He felt embarrassed, feeling his precum involuntary wet the other striker's fingers. “Fuck...”

Zlatan grinned widely. “Huhh? You /do/ like it..! You fucking slut...!” He spat, tugging harder. “C'mon, Pretty Boy. C'mon.” The snaked egged him on, wanting him to cum.

Cristiano didn't want to show off how weak he looked. Though, Zlatan pulling on him didn't help him. Reluctantly, he gave into Zlatan. He snapped his hands out of the Swede's grip and held his arms. His head collapsed onto Zlatan's shoulder as his hips jumped forward, then backwards in rhythm. 

Zlatan stopped moving his hand and let Cristiano fuck his hand. Finally, Cristiano was puddy in his hand-- Well, figuratively and physically. He was now better than the Portuguese striker. A wide grin showed how proud he was on his accomplishment. 

“Are you close, Pretty Boy?” Zlatan nuzzled his head against Ronaldo's shoulder and spoke into his ear. “Tell me.” 

Other than breathing heavily, Ronaldo managed to let out a simple 'yeah'. 

“Then, come on, Boy. Let me finish you off.” With Ronaldo continuing to thrust, Zlatan began to move his hand quickly. He didn't stop until he heard a deep grunt from the Portuguese and felt his cock twitch in his hand. Touching the tip of Cristiano's member, realizing he came in a great amount. “Ohh~” He sang into Cris' skin. “Good boy.”

The Portuguese could only keep his posture up by leaning against the frame of the other striker. His head was lifted up by Zlatan's hand, and let him. Cristiano groaned softly, barely keeping his eyes open. 

Zlatan pulled his wet hand out of his shorts. “Such a good boy.” He repeated before sticking his tongue out and dragged it along Cris' jawbone. Letting the striker lean against the wall, he stepped away and headed for the door. However, once getting Cristiano's glance, he took his cum-covered index and middle fingers and slipped them into his mouth, as if telling him he owned him. He left the room calmly to head to the lockeroom. The wicked Zlatan acted like nothing happened. 

 

After an hour or so, when the buses were lined up to take each team home, PSG and Real Madrid crossed paths again. Fans that waited for them after the game were barricaded from the tunnel and the buses, yelling for each player's attention.

After giving an autograph or two to his fans, Cristiano (dressed in a new pair of trainers) turned around to get to his bus. But, he was stopped again by a tall figure. He looked up and froze when he noticed it was Ibrahimovic. 

Zlatan acted like he was just saying goodbye, giving Cristiano a handshake and gave him a quick hug. With his mouth near Cris' ear again, he grinned. “Good boy, Cristiano Ronaldo.” He let those words linger before pulling away and casually walked to the PSG tour bus. He didn't even turn his attention to the screaming fans a couple of feet away from him. He left Cristiano standing there, most likely dumbfounded. 

'Welp.' Zlatan thought, 'Onto another game.'


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second ending to 'Revenge'. 
> 
> finnnalllyy, i finished it Dx sorry for the wait!!

Next time Zlatan and Cristiano met was a friendly between Sweden and Portugal. It was on Sweden's soil. Portugal's team arrived on date, and they weren't too excited to fly into such cold weather. 

“Holy fuck, I don't want to be here.” Raul, zipping up his jacket up to his beard, complained as he stood up from his seat on the plane.

“Same here.” Fabio chimed in, looking over his shoulder at his teammate. They shifted down the aisleway to get off the plane with their carry-on bags in hand. Noticing Cristiano didn't reply, Fabio flashed him a look. “What's up with you, Cris? You haven't said anything for a while now.” 

Cristiano, with his headphones clamped against his ears, noticed Fabio looking at him. Getting only a smidge of what he said, he shifted one of his earphones off his ear and shrugged. “Nothing. Just concentrating on the game ahead.” 

Fabio nodded and dismissed how odd Cristiano was acting. He didn't realize something was really bothering his friend. Cris tried to drown out his mind by playing Beyonce songs on max volumes in his Beats headphones. No matter how hard he tried to forget it, it would still come up and itch at him. This was Portugal vs Sweden. Sweden. As in, Sweden: the team with the player everyone knew, loved, and envied. The man who claimed to be the best footballer of all time, and the one who drew Cristiano into a corner and then had his way with. That man was undoubtedly Zlatan Ibrahmovic. Cristiano almost feared to be even in the same facility as him. 

Ronaldo would of begged to be benched for this game for 'personal reasons', but that idea would never fly. He was Cristiano Ronaldo, for God's sake. Everyone always anticipated him to be on the pitch. He was a key player on Portugal's team. 

Being forced to be on the starting line up, Cristiano found himself in his white, green, and red kit, standing boldly on the pitch. Him, his teammates, the refs, and Sweden's team stood there in a line as both national anthems played over the loud speaker. Cristiano played a stern expression on his face infront of all these fans while Zlatan stood a few people away from him. He couldn't ignore that fact even if he wanted to. That tension he and Zlatan had between each other was strong. 

As the players went down the line to shake hands one by one, Cristiano did his best to casually skip Zlatan's hand, but the Swede wouldn't allow it. Cristiano brushed gazes with the other man. With a smug grin, Ibrahmovic winked at the smaller man and walked by like it was nothing. 

That taunt made Cristiano fall back into a flashback-- Being stuck in a darkroom with Zlatan breathing down his chest with his hand in Cris' shorts. The fact that he was too hesitant to yell out for help, or to fight back as Zlatan let Zlatan do what he wanted. God, Cris just wanted to spew his lunch right then and there. 

However, the game didn't turn out too bad. Well... Portugal lost 1-2, thanks to their defense breaking at the last minute. But-- at least Zlatan didn't try and harass Cristiano while on the pitch. He was more into getting the victory, probably because he lost last time he was versing Cristiano. 

The two teams split to go into their own lockerrooms before heading back to their respected team buses. Since the match was scheduled late at night, Portugal decided to put up their team at some hotel outside of town for the night while Sweden's players were able to go to their own homes. Before Cristiano climbed onto the bus, someone stopped him. 

“Ey, Cris!” Fabio came running up to his close friend, “Here. Zlatan wanted to give you this.” He showed Cris a folded up piece of paper. 

Ronaldo stared at it as if it was the plague. Though, he forced himself to take the note. 

Fabio stepped passed him to get to the bus. “What is it? Passing notes during class?” He innocently teased before disappearing to find his seat. 

Idly ignoring Fabio's jokes, Cristiano found himself opening the piece of paper up. It was a address with a heart and a 'Z' at the end of it. His eyebrows knitted. Did he really just call for a bootycall from Ronaldo? That douchebag. Immediately, Ronaldo decided he was going to his house-- but for another reason. He was going to tell off Zlatan. No more harassment, no more taunts. He wanted to stop this.

At the hotel, Cristiano got settled into his and Fabio's room before heading out. He told his friend he needed to take care of something, and needed some time alone. With no rebuttal, Fabio let him go, saying his cellphone was on if he needed him. 

Cristiano got himself a taxi and told the driver the address. Arriving to Zlatan's house, Cristiano looked upon this expensive and modern-looking house. Of course Zlatan would buy himself this house. Besides that, Cristiano marched up to the large metal door and knocked hard. He was physing himself to go head to head with this douchebag. 

Seconds later, Zlatan opened the door wide and smiled down at the Portugese. “Hello, Cristiano.” He looked cozy in his warm house-- sporting a plain navy t-shirt and a pair of black Harem pants, his hair pulled back into a slick bun. “Come in, come in.” Zlatan waved a hand as he ventured deeper into his house. 

Cristiano reluctantly followed, staring hard into the back of Zlatan's head. He aimlessly followed the man into the living room that had a wonderful view of Lake Malaren-- a vast sea of black with yellow and white lights dancing in the distance. Zlatan snuggled into his L-shaped couch, sitting across his large fireplace. “Came here to play, right?” The Swede sat with his legs wide infront of him, having the same mannerisms as a king on a throne. He looked over at the Portugese.

Cristiano stood there, his hand turning to a fist. He fought the urge to punch him in his smug face. “I have something to tell you, actually.” Cristiano exhaled sharply. 

Zlatan peered over at him over his shoulder. “Whats up?”

“I'm stopping this before anything else happens.” Cristiano started. “I'm not some person you can toy around with. I don't want you harassing me anymore.” The Portuguese stared darkly at the Swede.

Zlatan blinked at him with no emotion. The threat didn't effect him. 

Cristiano, looking frustrated, tried again. “You hear me?”

“I call bullshit.” Zlatan yawned. He stood back up. Cristiano watched him in awe as his long legs climbed over the couch. 

“No-- you listen here!” Cristiano was about to go off when Zlatan stood toe to toe with him, the taller man looming over him. 

“No. /You/ listen here..” Zlatan shut him up with little effort. “I know why you came over here, and it's not to reject me.”

“You sound certain of yourself.” Cristiano pointed out dully. 

“Oh, I am.” Zlatan cracked a slight grin. “I dont believe you want to just leave here without anything happening... I mean-- Don't you remember how good it felt coming just by my hand?” Zlatan lifted his hand, showing Cristiano his long fingers. 

Ronaldo's eyes moved to his hand, a slight blush colored his face. He remembered. There was no way to forget that. How Zlatan was the only person in the world to be able to manhandle Cristiano so easily. How his body felt like heaven after reaching such a quick but amazing orgasm. He bit his lip, wanting so much just to leave, but then again, he is offering him for another go-around. Why not? Just take the offer, then leave without looking back. 

Zlatan heard no response from Cristiano. Having a feeling he wasn't going to back off, or punch him again like last time, Zlatan slipped his hand and gripped the back of Cristiano's neck tight. Without breaking eye contact with him, he brought himself chest-to-chest with him. There, he waited for any rebuttal from the Portguese. They just stared intensely with one another, not showing any hint of weakness. 

After a second, Zlatan leaned down and Cristiano met him halfway, both kissing hard. It seemed like a long moment before Zlatan pulled away suddenly, both panting heavily. With a grin, he grabbed Cristiano by the collar and pulled him back towards the couch. He pushed his body over the back of the couch and let Cris land on his back softly on the cushions. Zlatan, with his lanky legs, climbed back over the couch with his hands in his pockets. Looming over Cristiano's hips, he watched the man stare back up at him. Though, instead of lowering himself, Zlatan stepped to the side and pushed Cristiano to the floor with his foot. 

Cristiano fell to the carpet with a thud. “What the fuck--!?” The Portuguese snapped as he got onto his knees, acting like he was just pushed over on the pitch. Though, he watched Zlatan sit down where he once laid. He saw the Swede pull down his pants, his erection standing at attention against his stomach. He sat there stunned, as if it was out of character for Zlatan to do this. But-- then again, it wasn't. 

“Suck my dick.” He leaned down and got into Cristiano's face, snapping him out of his daze. Zlatan wasn't afraid to throw out profanity like that. Though, sitting back up straight, he watched Ronaldo just stare back dumbfounded. “What? You haven't seen a dick before, or something?” He reached out and lightly scratched under Cris' jaw. “C'mon, I wanna see those cute lips of yours around it.” 

At first, Cristiano was hesistant. But, he started to secretly like the idea of being submissive for Zlatan. And, also, he knew this was going to be last time to see him like this as well. Might as fucking well.. Cristiano sat up and got inbetween the Swede's knees. He broke eye contact as he leaned over and licked up Zlatan's length. It didn't take him long for him to wrap his lips around his shaft and started to bob his head. 

Zlatan exhaled slowly, loving the fact that he finally got Cristiano on his knees. He moaned to himself as his dark eyes carefully watched him suck his cock. He lifted up his baggy shirt to expose his flat stomach, his hand stretched over his pecs. Though, as he watched, Zlatan noticed Cris wasn't doing much to get him off. He sighed heavily and sat up. “C'mon, Pretty boy. Is that all you got?” A hand slapped against Cris' cheek and gripped at his hair. “Roll your tongue around, moan into it-- Actually show me the real slut that you are.” 

Even though Zlatan was treating him like dirt, Cris listened to his words and followed through. Ignoring the stinging feeling on the side of his face, the Portuguese closed his eyes and swirled his tongue around Zlatan's shaft. Luckily, that gained a groan from the other man. Cris would be lying to himself if he said he wasnt feeling turned on by his own actions. 

“That's it, Boy.” Zlatan grinned devilishly. “Uh, yeah.. Keep that up and I'll reward you.” 

Cris purposely moaned louder, acting like he didn't hear that last part. He didn't want to guess what type of idea Zlatan had up in his twisted mind. He continued his work until he was suddenly gripped by the hair and force down onto his dick until it closed up his throat. Cristiano groaned and tried to breath, but Zlatan's cock was halfway down his throat, blocking his air circulation. His hand gripped against the Swede's thigh, trying to force himself not to gag. 

After being released, Cristiano pulled away from his wet cock to catch his breath. “What the fuck!?” He asked again as Zlatan burst out laughing. 

Zlatan stood up, idly stroking himself. “It didn't seem like you were enjoying it. So-- Onto the next part.. Get up.” He ordered with a smile on his face. 

Before Cristiano could move, he was yanked up by the roots of his hair. On his feet, he stood eye to eye with the Swede. Zlatan's smug stare bored holes into Cris' angered face. Zlatan was cool and collected while Cristiano was breathing hard, sexually stressed. He looked like he was either going to kill Zlatan, or pounce on him. 

Either way, the Swede pulled Cristiano to the nearest wall and pinned him there. He crooked his head down to capture Cris in a kiss. It was rough and messy, nothing 'loving' about it. They were there to fuck and leave without looking back. 

As they kissed, Zlatan's hands went south to skillfully unbutton and unzip Cristiano's jeans. Realizing what he was doing, Cristiano quickly helped, pushing his pants and CR7 boxerbriefs down to his ankles and then stepping out of them. Before he could move, Zlatan grabbed him, turned him around to face the wall, and then shoved him back up against it. 

As Cristiano had his hands, chest, and face pressed against the wallpaper, He turned to catch a glimpse of the Swede, but could only see him staring down. He purposely stuck out his ass as Zlatan closed the space inbetween them. He thought Zlatan would atleast prepare him but, something more thick entered him. Cristiano grimaced, trying not to let out a yelp. “Zlatan-- You bitch.” He choked.

As a response, Zlatan just breathed out a chuckled. His slobbered cock snug inbetween Cristiano's asscheeks. “Shut up. It'll get better.” At first, it was awkward and uncomfortable. Zlatan only had limited movement until Cris' muscles stretched to situate Zlatan's girth. Now that he was able to fuck him with ease, Cris' groans of protest turned into moans of pleasure. 

Now that the Swede moved to his liking with his hands on the other man's hips, he peered up at the Portugese and grinned. He found it amusing that Cris had his eyes shut and his mouth open, moaning louder than he usually would. Well, Cristiano was never the one to be fucked, so he couldn't help himself be loud. 

Zlatan leaned into Cristiano and started to purposly hit him harder. “You slut.” He taunted, whispering into the Portugese's ear. He idly trailed licks and kisses against Cris' neck.

“Ah.. Ah! Fuck! Sh-Shut up, Ah, right there, right there, Por favor--” Ronaldo couldn't keep himself together as his ass giggled against Zlatan's thrusts. Cristiano pressed the top of his head into the wall, breathing hard. “God-- fuck, Zla..Zlatan. I can't-- I'm going to..” His face burned red, embarrassed that he was about to confess that Zlatan was about to make him come. He hated how vulnerable he was acting right now.

Then, all of a sudden, Zlatan switched up his pace and began to move dangerously slow. Cristiano shook at the knees and gasped in response. “Not until I do, you bitch..” It was a power struggle for the Swede. Only he was allowed to feel the full extent of pleasure before Cristiano could. Ronaldo was only a sex toy for him. 

“No, please, Zlatan,-- Faster..!” Cristiano clamped his eyes shut and reached behind him to claw at the other man's hips. It was agonizingly slow, but Zlatan seemed to enjoy it, rocking his hips into him lightly. Cristiano could hear the man behind him inhale sharpy and mumble things like, 'Ah, yeah..' 'Like that, like that...' Cris was ready to burst and Ibrahmovic wasn't letting him. 

As Zlatan heard Cris whimper to himself, he could finally feel himself inch closer and closer to finishing. Now the Swede decided to move faster with each thrust. Each time hitting Cristiano in his G-spot, it earned him an 'Ah' from Cris. This time, Zlatan came first before Cristiano could. He caught his breath as he stared idly at the white strands all along Cris' back. 

Ronaldo was still along the wall, breathing heavily and feeling how empty he was. “No.. No fair, Zlatan.. Let me get off as well..” He completely forgot who was in charge of giving the orders. 

Instead of getting annoyed, though, Zlatan let it go and grinned. “Fine. Only because you fuck well, slut.” He stepped forward and closed the space between them, Cristiano's back pressed up against the wall. 

The Portugese eagerly looked over at the Swede, even though Zlatan continued to belittle him with that nickname. Being touched by the one and only Zlatan is worth being called a slut and a boy. But, Cristiano would never confess that out loud. He was just wanted to get off, then get home as soon as he could. 

The Swede hooked a hand behind Cristiano's neck and planted a kiss on those swollen lips of his. He heard Ronaldo moan as his hand went south, gripping his pulsing erection. Zlatan wanted to shut him up for being so loud and locking lips with him wasn't doing much. 

He pull away and covered a hand over Ronaldo's mouth. Shh-ing him, the Swede rested his chin on the other man's shoulder. As his hand quickly moved up and down on his dick, Zlatan could hear Cris' muffled pleas. Though, the noises suddenly stopped when Cristiano tensed up and released himself in Zlatan's hand. 

The Swede looked down and saw the white mess that Cristiano created. He scoffed, “Exactly like last time.” His dark eyes peered back up at the exhausted Portuguese. “God, I love it..” Zlatan purred, bring his hand down from his mouth and replacing it with his lips, kissing him hard. 

With a blurred mind, Cristiano kissed him back before barely recognizing that Zlatan had pulled away from him. He was left there against the wall, his body a sweaty mess. He caught his breath as he watched Zlatan pull back up his pants and stretch his skirt back over his torso. “You can take a shower.” Cristiano heard him say, “Just make it quick, Boy.” 

Coming down from his high, Cristiano realized how good his body felt right now. He felt kind of stupid at the same time, though. He came over to his house to deny the great Zlatan, but in the end, he was bending over for him. He had to work on his self-control.

After the shower, Cristiano paced back out to the living room wearing his clothes again. His ass was sore, but he did his best to play it off. He wasn't going to give the satisfaction to Zlatan that he was able to wreck the Portuguese. Though, peering around the room, the Swede was no where to be found. Cristiano only figured Zlatan was officially done with him and had no more use for him until he saw him waiting patiently at the front door. 

Ronaldo grinned at him. “What? Are you going to tell me to stay after all?” Cristiano slowly paced over to him, taking his time. 

Picking up his head, Zlatan stood up. He just smiled and shook his head. “I'm just seeing you off, you prick.” He stood toe to toe with Cristiano again (a habit of his). Though, this time, they were grinning at each other. “...Come back anytime you want.” Zlatan wasn't much for being sentimental, but he tried. 

Cristiano raised his eyebrows. “Oh? Zlatan loves me now?” 

Zlatan rolled his eyes and his grin disappeared. So much for being nice. “Fuck off.” He shifted to Cristiano's side and swung his leg around, kicking him hard in the ass. “I just like hearing you beg for me.” 

The Portuguese leaned back, his hand on his back, groaning lightly. He was too sore to roughhouse right now. “..Fucker.” He breathed, his eyes closed and waited for his pain to subside. 

Zlatan let out a hearty laugh. “Get out of here.” He patted Cristiano on the back and watched him leave for the night. He didn't know when they are going to meet again-- he just hoped sooner than later.


End file.
